


The House of Wood and Stone

by PaintingWithWords (paint_with_words)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, And without a wicked stepmother, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dark Fairy Tale Elements, Dark Magic, Gen, M/M, Minor Character Death, Not Canon Compliant, Other, Very loosely inspired by Snow White, Without the dwarves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-15 19:03:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21258140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paint_with_words/pseuds/PaintingWithWords
Summary: As a newborn, Yuri was abandoned in the forest by his mother.  An old hermit took him in and raised Yuri as his grandson.  Years later, Yuri's mother— now the Queen— discovers that her son has survived and sends the King's best huntsman to slay him.  But when the huntsman falls for the one he's sent to kill and vows to protect him instead, the Queen has to resort to other means to see to it that her will is carried out.This is a tale of love that goes deeper than the bonds of blood,veryloosely based on "Snow White".





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [2019 Otayuri Big Bang](https://otayuribigbang.tumblr.com/).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nikolai caught sight of a young woman walking through the trees from a distance. She was so pale that at first he thought she was an apparition or a ghost. He held still and watched her, carrying a small bundle in her arms, almost insubstantial in the waning afternoon light.
> 
> He watched her cross the small stream that cut through the woods. She stopped in a clearing of trees, snowflakes drifting down around her, and laid the small bundle on a large rock, revealing an infant. Nikolai watched as she leaned over and spoke to the child. Softly, the baby began to wail, weak and sickly. She leaned down, trying to shush the infant, and cast a furtive glance around her.
> 
> Suddenly, Nikolai was afraid for the infant. It was clear that the young woman meant to leave the child behind and was afraid the baby’s crying would draw unwanted attention. There were several smaller rocks near her on the ground and she looked as if she was trying to build up the courage to pick one up and end it all right away.
> 
> He knew he could not allow this to happen.

As he made his way through the frozen forest, Nikolai caught sight of a young woman walking through the trees from a distance. She was so pale that at first he thought she was an apparition or a ghost. He held still and watched her as she moved, carrying a small bundle in her arms, almost insubstantial in the waning afternoon light.

She was young, barely more than a child. Wisps of white-blonde hair occasionally strayed from underneath her tattered shawl as she walked through the snow, each step heavier than the last. Even from this distance, Nikolai could hear her crying.

He watched her cross the small stream that cut through the woods, picking her way across the rocks. She stopped in a clearing of trees, snowflakes drifting down around her, and laid the small bundle on a large rock and unwrapped it, revealing an infant. Nikolai watched as she leaned over and spoke to the child. Softly, the baby began to cry, a weak and sickly wail. She leaned down, trying to shush the infant, and cast a furtive glance around her.

Suddenly, Nikolai was afraid for the infant. It was clear that the young woman meant to leave the child behind and was afraid the baby’s crying would draw unwanted attention. There were several smaller rocks near her on the ground and she looked as if she was trying to build up the courage to pick one up and end it all right away.

He knew he could not allow this to happen.

Nikolai stepped on a branch, purposefully making noise. The young woman startled like a frightened deer and stood up, ready to bolt. He made another noise and with a cry she fled back the way she had come, not once looking back. 

When he was certain she would not return, Nikolai stepped out of the woods and into the clearing and gathered the baby in his arms. The tiny little fists were cold and were already beginning to turn white from exposure.

The child looked up at him with vivid green eyes. A tuft of hair the color of cornsilk stuck out and he smoothed it down, noting that it was soft and fine. The child squirmed in his arms, mouth working, clearly hungry. When the baby found nothing, they began to cry again, a piteous wail that tugged at his heart.

He and his beloved Irina had always wanted a child, but they had never been blessed with one and a fever had taken her from him ten years ago. After that, there had been war with a neighboring kingdom and all the many horrors that came with it. Nikolai had seen enough of the ways of men and he retreated to the woods to live out the remainder of his life in peace and solitude. And now, now that he was old and alone, God had seen fit to give him a child? Well, it was a strange blessing to be sure, but one he would not look down upon. 

“Hello, little one,” Nikolai rumbled at the infant in his arms. The child shoved a tiny fist in their mouth and blinked, taking him in. He held the baby closer and sighed.

The baby was young- very young- and small, probably no more than a few days old. Nikolai wondered when they had last been fed. A child this young wouldn’t last the night out in the wilderness. If the elements didn’t get them, then wild animals surely would. 

It would be difficult, but no task worth doing was ever easy. He had carved out a life for himself on the edge of the forest. Now, after years of solitude, he had another companion on the road that was life. 

He wrapped the baby up in his coat and held them close.

“Come, now,” he whispered softly to the baby. “Let’s get you home.”

* * *

Nikolai named the baby Yuri. He thrived and grew under Nikolai’s care into a little boy that laughed and played like all little boys. His hair stayed the same pale white-blond and his green eyes flashed when he was angry. He was fair-skinned and slender, obviously his mother’s child. Despite his harsh beginnings, Yuri was strong and healthy, clever and curious. He followed Nikolai wherever he went, like a tiny shadow, mimicking his actions and listening intently to everything he had to say. 

When Yuri began to talk, Nikolai told Yuri he was his grandfather. It felt close enough to the truth that he saw no harm in it. 

In spring and summer, Nikolai showed Yuri how to plant seeds and harvest vegetables from their garden so that there was always food for their table. In fall and winter, Nikolai taught Yuri to hunt and how to preserve the meat and skins so that they were warm and fed. They felled trees for firewood and stacked them in neat cords next to the house. Nikolai even taught Yuri his letters and numbers and how to read and write. Someday, when he was a man, Nikolai reasoned that Yuri might choose to go out into the world. He should be prepared to deal with those he met there.

But most of all, through his actions, Nikolai taught Yuri that he was precious and loved. Nikolai loved Yuri as though he were his own. And, excepting flesh and blood, he was.

* * *

Years later, far away in the King’s castle, Yuliana entered her chambers and locked the doors behind her. She had been Queen for almost a dozen years now and she was pleased at the position she had achieved. But tonight, she had work to do, and not long to do it.

As she turned from the door, Yuliana caught sight of her reflection in the mirror on the far wall. Quickly she crossed the room to the mirror and smiled at what she saw. She was still young and beautiful, but she knew those things were fleeting and would eventually fade. Her keen intellect, however, would last a lifetime. Her looks may have caught the eye of the King in the beginning, but what kept him was her clever mind.

As she stood in front of the mirror, she remembered the half-starved child she had been, hollow-eyed and afraid and used by men. She had promised herself as she ran from the woods and left her newborn son behind that no man would use her again, that she would learn to use them to get what she wanted. 

Smiling, Yuliana stepped away from the mirror and went to one of her many wardrobes. She went to the oldest one and opened it, finding the false bottom by feel. Carefully, she moved the board aside, revealing a small hidden chamber. Inside was a wide, shallow bowl, carved from a single piece of black onyx. She took it out, went to her balcony, and opened the door. 

Fresh snow covered the balcony and Yuliana gathered a small amount in her hands. She packed it into the bowl and set it by the fire roaring in the hearth. Slowly the snow melted, leaving the bowl half full of clear water.

At the midnight hour, she took the bowl outside and cradled it in her hands and let it catch the image of the blood red moon hanging in the sky. She set the bowl down on the balcony and withdrew a dagger from her bodice, its sharp, slender blade no longer than her little finger. She took the dagger in hand and pierced her index finger with its needle-sharp tip. Chanting softly under her breath, she held her finger up and let three drops of blood enter the water. The surface seemed to cloud over and swirl, shattering the reflection of the angry moon. Fog formed on the surface and from within came a voice, ageless and powerful.

“Speak your desire,” said the voice.

“Show me the most clever person in all the kingdom,” she murmured.

The fog boiled up and when it cleared, the surface of the water was as silvery as a mirror. Her own pale face stared back at her, the moon framing her flaxen hair like a rusted halo.

“It is you, my Queen,” the voice answered. 

Pleased, Yuliana allowed herself a small smile. She took the bowl inside by the fire and sprinkled salt into the water. The silvery surface melted away, leaving behind nothing but clear fluid. Yuliana poured the water into a chamber pot and wiped the bowl clean with a silk cloth. Once the bowl was back in its hiding place, she unbolted her door and called for her maids. 

Three young women hurried to her chamber, cowering as they entered. She had the first one take the chamber pot away and had the second dress her for bed. To the third, she said, “Tell my husband he may come to me now, if he so desires.”

The third maid scuttled away while the second continued to brush out her long hair. She knew how to keep what she wanted. She was, after all, the cleverest person in all the kingdom.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I have had a terrible vision," Yuliana murmured, "one that has plagued me and disturbed my rest. I consulted with the priests and they have let me know that this vision is straight from God. He has seen fit to show me a vision of a young man who, if allowed to live, will bring ruin to the kingdom. He is weak now, but in time he will rise up and wage war and all of us shall suffer for it. However, this future is not set in stone. It can be stopped, here and now. A well-placed arrow or two will end all of this before it begins. Tell me, Otabek, can you place those arrows for me?”
> 
> A frown rippled across his stoic features. “While it is true that I am a huntsman,” he said quietly, “I am not an assassin.”
> 
> “I know what you are,” Yuliana replied, an edge to her voice. “You are a taker of lives. You are a huntsman, one of the finest that serves my husband and this kingdom. I am merely asking you to hunt different prey this time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the second installment!

There came a night when Yuliana’s scrying gave a different result. There came a night when she pulled the bowl from its hiding place, filled it with newfallen snow and melted it by the hearth, pricked her finger with her needle-sharp dagger, and saw not the quicksilver reflection she expected, but the face of another. 

The image of an attractive youth filled the bowl, a youth with long blond hair and emerald eyes and milk-white skin, all so very like her own. But the youth’s smile was not like hers. No, his smile was like that of another Yuliana had known, one who had convinced her to lie back and let him between her legs, just for a moment… And he was of the right age...

In that moment, Yuliana realized that she had committed a grave error. 

For all the years since she had run from the forest, she’d believed that her son was dead. He had been the child of a soldier she’d fancied in her days as a camp follower. When she stopped bleeding and her belly began to swell, the soldier deserted both her and his legion, leaving her to fend for herself.

Three days after she had delivered him, Yuliana had gone into the forest with her child. She had no other choice. She had been too young to care for an infant, especially alone. She could barely care for herself. But after she was free of him, Yuliana did everything she could to improve her station. She bartered for better clothing and for herbs which would prevent conception. She apprenticed herself to a woman who taught her arts both sorcerous and sexual. Eventually, she caught the eye of another young warrior, a prince who would one day be crowned king. 

And now, a mistake she had made half her lifetime ago had come back to haunt her.

Rage filled her, white-hot and all-consuming. It was all she could do not to send the bowl flying across the room. Instead, her hands gripped her skirts, knotting themselves in the fine, expensive silks. 

“_Show me _,” she hissed. “Show me where he is!”

The water clouded over again. Yuliana saw a house made of wood and stone in a clearing, a thin ribbon of white smoke ticking its chimney. Wood was stacked next to the house in preparation for the coming winter. Next to the house was a garden, worked into neat and tidy rows. The leafy tops of carrots and beets stuck above the black earth and potato vines grew up the side of a cobbled-together trellis. A cream-colored cat stalked invisible mice among the onions. A pair of goats were tied to a gnarled and ancient apple tree, crunching the small green fruits that had fallen beneath it.

An old man, his thick beard more grey than black, sat on a stump mending a well-worn peasant shirt. And next to him… Next to him sat a youth with long blond hair, a bow by his side as he repaired an arrow, attaching new feathers to the wooden shaft with a bit of sinew. 

There was no doubt that the young man was of her flesh and blood.

If ever he should leave the forest and come to the capital city and find his way to the King’s court, the King would take one look at him and uncover the truth. He would discover than not only could she bear children, but that she had already done so. He would put her aside and take another to be his Queen. And all of her hard work would be undone in an instant.

Yuliana’s nails dug into her thighs through her skirts. She had to correct this mistake. Now.

She drained the contents of the bowl into her chamber pot, cleaned the bowl, and put it back in its hiding place. She sent for her maids and had one take the pot. The other helped her out of her silk dress and pulled out one of her usual nightgowns.

“Not that one,” she spat, ripping it from the girl’s hand and throwing it to the floor. “Bring me something befitting my position.” To the other she snapped, “Attend to my hair. Bring the oil and the comb.”

Obediently, the maid retrieved the scented oil and warmed it by the hearth in much the same manner as she had warmed the snow. When it was ready, she brought it to Yuliana and slowly began to comb the oil through her hair until it seemed to glow. The other maid brought out a selection of silk nightgowns. Yuliana selected one made of scarlet silk and allowed the maid to dress her.

“Shall I take word to the king that he may visit you if he so desires?” the maid said, her eyes carefully downcast.

Yuliana smiled.

“No,” she replied, rising from her chair. “This time, I shall go to him and have what I desire of him.” The maid quickly scrambled to find her finest dressing gown and helped her into it. Yuliana took a candle and made her way from her chambers to those of her husband.

She knew how to get what she wanted.

* * *

Less than a fortnight later, the man Yuliana had sent for was in her private receiving room. She wore a gown of green velvet and had her maids oil and curl her hair. Kohl rimmed her eyes and she had applied rouge to her cheeks to give them a more youthful glow. Today, she was willing to use every trick she had at her disposal.

The huntsman walked in, clad in dark, supple leathers, and bowed to her. His dark hair was shorn short like a warrior’s and there was a power and grace about him that she should have expected, considering his profession. Her husband had told her he was the best, which was surprising for one so young. Obviously, he had natural talents that transcended what could be taught. Had her husband been out on campaign again, she might have taken him to her bed and found out what other talents he possessed. He was certainly well-made... But no matter, there would be time for that later, if she so desired. He would not refuse her. No man refused her.

“You must be Otabek,” she said with practiced boredom. “My husband speaks highly of you.”

“I am honored,” the young man said, casting his eyes downward. “I understand you have need of my skills.”

“Yes, I do,” she replied. “But my husband need not know that I have contracted you. My need is a private one, shall we say.”

Otabek nodded again. “I understand. I can promise you that no one will know of the work I do for you.”

“I have had a terrible vision," Yuliana murmured, "one that has plagued me and disturbed my rest. I consulted with the priests and they have let me know that this vision is straight from God. He has seen fit to show me a vision of a young man who, if allowed to live, will bring ruin to the kingdom. He is weak now, but in time he will rise up and wage war and all of us shall suffer for it. However, this future is not set in stone. It can be stopped, here and now. A well-placed arrow or two will end all of this before it begins. Tell me, Otabek, can you place those arrows for me?”

A frown rippled across his stoic features. “While it is true that I am a huntsman,” he said quietly, “I am not an assassin.”

“I know what you are,” Yuliana replied, an edge to her voice. “You are a taker of lives. You are a huntsman, one of the finest that serves my husband and this kingdom. I am merely asking you to hunt different prey this time.”

“This young man needs to die for the good of the kingdom and the good of the king,” she continued. “If he is allowed to live, he will rain destruction down upon us. And I cannot have that. I love my husband and I love my country. I will do anything to protect them. Will you not do the same?”

Otabek narrowed his eyes, his expression dark. Ah, now she had him, neatly trapped in her web like the proverbial fly. There was no way he could decline without implying that he didn’t care for the king, the kingdom, or any of the people within it. That would be treason, an offense punishable by execution. Yuliana looked him over again, her fingers tightening their hold on the arm of her chair as his expression softened.

“I shall undertake this,” he said at last, as though he had a choice in the matter.

“To prove that the deed is done,” Yuliana said, “you will return with the heart of this youth before the moon is full. Bring it to me in this box.” 

She motioned to the box sitting on the table beside her. He moved forward and took it without comment. 

“Any other supplies you need will be made available to you.”

“All I need to know is where to find him,” Otabek said. 

Normally, Yuliana would have found this statement to be a boast, but from Otabek, it had the thrilling ring of truth.

“He lives in the northern woods, in a small house not far a stream. Follow the road to the north for three days, then leave it when you come to the crossroads. When you come to the forest, follow the stream for another two days and you shall find him.”

Otabek nodded and looked up at her, a questioning look on his face.

“Why not tell the king of your vision?” he asked. “You have confided in the priests and now in me. Why not confide in your husband as well? He could send a group of soldiers out to take down this threat. Why the secrecy?”

“Because my husband fears my visions,” she lied. “I had a vision shortly after we were wed and he nearly put me aside, fearing I was bespelled. I have talked to the priests extensively and they have guaranteed me that my visions are pure and not touched by the hand of evil. I have no desire to distress my husband again. Surely you can understand that.”

“I can indeed, milady,” Otabek replied, tucking the box under his arm. “I shall complete this task before the moon is full.” 

As the doors closed behind him, Yuliana watched him go. Once Otabek had completed this task, she would see what other tasks he could undertake for her.. 

* * *

A few days later, Otabek made his way into the forest on foot. He knew the area, even though he did not know the house the Queen had mentioned. He followed the river, keeping to the woods so as not to be seen. Travelers on the northern road were rare, but not so rare as to be of no consequence.

Above him, the sky was leaden and grey, threatening snow. The wind blew cold through the trees, cutting him to the bone. Still Otabek kept on, heading towards where the house should be and whatever awaited him there. 

He couldn’t help but think that the Queen had not been completely honest with him. There were whispers among the other hunters that the Queen was a powerful witch, not to be crossed. Some said that one of the King’s advisors had angered her and had paid with his life. He had no desire to test these rumors. He would do as she asked and be done. What came after that, he would see.

The snow began to fall, thick and heavy, on his last day in the woods. He arrived at midday and remained hidden among the trees, the house in sight. Smoke poured from the chimney and Otabek couldn’t help but think how nice it would be to sit before a roaring fire and warm his body. Throughout the day he kept watch as the snow continued to fall, noting all that took place. It seemed such a humble home for one supposedly so evil. 

When at last the youth came outside, he moved about in a hurried manner, as though he was rushed by someone or something, a pair of buckets in his hands. He used a long stick to break the ice that covered the well. Rapidly, he filled the buckets and ferried them back inside. He repeated the process several times and finally slammed the door shut. 

As night fell, the youth returned again, fretting as he gathered firewood. Otabek watched him from his hiding place, wondering why he seemed so distressed. Were there others inside? He needed to know more.

Otabek knew the only way he could find out was to get inside. And what better way than to pose as a weary traveller who had lost his way? If the youth denied him and he was alone in the house, he could slit his throat, take what the Queen needed, and be done. If there were others and they denied him, he would simply leave, then double back and kill the youth when he came out again for more water or wood.

Slipping his hunting knife into his sleeve, he knocked on the door and rubbed his arms, waiting for someone to answer.

The door swung open and he saw the youth, barely taller than he was, his long flaxen hair cascading around his shoulders. Sharp green eyes took him in and the hard set of his mouth softened, but not by much.

“Who are you?” the youth asked. There were dark circles under his eyes, as though he had slept poorly, if at all. Otabek ran his hands over his upper arms and shivered, not entirely from the cold.

“I was trying to make my way to Orsk,” Otabek murmured, naming a city to the north, “but I lost my way in the storm. Night is falling and I have few supplies. Could I perhaps stay the night here? I fear that another night out in this,” he nodded towards the snow falling behind him, “will be the death of me.”

For a moment, the youth looked as though he might decline. But then he sighed and stepped back from the door.

“Come inside,” he said. “We don’t have much, but you’re welcome to it.”

Nodding gratefully, Otabek stepped over the threshold and sighed as the welcome heat poured over him.

The youth shut the door behind him and moved back to the fire in the hearth. There were two beds on either side of the fire, one of them occupied by an old man bundled up under blankets. A cat lay curled up atop the blankets on the other one.

“Yura?” the old man called, his voice feeble and cracking. “What was that noise? I thought I heard someone at the door.”

“It was nothing, Grandfather,” the youth— Yura? Yuri?— said, sitting by his grandfather’s bedside and taking his hand. He shot a look at Otabek that brooked no argument and Otabek held back and stayed quiet. 

While he watched, Yuri wrung out a cloth in a bucket of water by his feet and mopped the old man’s brow, talking to him soothingly. After a moment or two, the old man dropped into an uneasy sleep. Yuri laid the cloth over his forehead before he rose from his chair and got a bowl down from the cupboard. He tore a hunk of bread off the loaf on the table and dropped it into the bowl.

“My grandfather stayed out in the cold too long trying to get the stupid goats to come inside,” Yuri said as he knelt down by the kettle in front of the hearth. 

Yuri ladled soup into the bowl and handed it to Otabek, who took it gratefully. There wasn’t much to the soup— just a few bits of carrot and potato— but it warmed him and filled his belly. They spoke as Otabek ate, but not much, which suited Otabek. He watched Yuri as he cared for his grandfather, lost in thought. Taking him in and feeding him while trying to care for someone who had fallen ill was a kindness, something he had not expected from someone who was supposed to rise up and conquer a kingdom.

The Queen had told Otabek that the youth was evil, a threat to the kingdom. But by the look of him— with his long hair the color of wheat and his clear green eyes— it appeared that he was more of a threat to her. He had the look of her, and Otabek had heard rumors that the Queen had not been as innocent as she proclaimed to be when she wed the King… He could not help but wonder if the Queen had put him here in secret to be raised by another.

Now that he had come of age, perhaps she feared that he might try to claim some kind of birthright by being the Queen’s son, even though she wasn’t of noble birth. The King had no heirs of his own and if something should befall him…

As he sopped up the remnants of the soup with the last of his bread, Otabek realized that the real evil was not here, but in the palace. 

“You can stay the night,” Yuri murmured, wringing out the cloth and dabbing at his grandfather’s head with it in endless repetition. “Take my bed,” he muttered, indicating the one with the cat on it. “I’m not going to be sleeping in it tonight anyway.”

Otabek thanked him and crawled into the bed. The cat blinked up at him, sniffed his hand, and butted her head against his fingers, purring. He fell into an uneasy, fitful sleep, due in no small part to the realization that the Queen had sent him here to kill her own son. 

Several times during the night, Otabek woke to the sound of the old man coughing. Always, the sound was followed by Yuri’s calm voice, soothing his grandfather back to sleep. 

Despite resting poorly, Otabek woke with the dawn out of habit. Slowly he sat up, opening his eyes. Yuri had fallen asleep by the bed, his head resting on the mattress by his grandfather’s shoulder, holding his grandfather’s hand. The old man was sleeping and sounded better, but he was still ill.

Silently, Otabek rose and looked in the small, meager kitchen. Finding a few potatoes and onions, he sliced them with his hunting knife and put them in the kettle. He put handfuls of clean snow in the kettle and set it by the fire to warm. When Yuri awoke, Otabek was stirring the bubbling water.

“Thank you for feeding me and giving me a warm place to sleep last night,” Otabek said as he spooned broth into a bowl. “Now it’s my turn to repay your kindness.”

Yuri didn’t argue. He just nodded and took the bowl. He shook his grandfather’s shoulder and woke him.

“Grandpa,” he said gently, “wake up. You need to eat.”

Yuri helped his grandfather with the bowl and spoon and while Otabek watched in silence.. Only once his grandfather was done and settled back in bed did Yuri take a bowl for himself. Otabek looked down at his own bowl, ashamed. Had he not taken the time to look further— had he taken the Queen at her word— he could have destroyed all of this.

Otabek was glad he hadn’t trusted the Queen. But he still had to return with proof that the deed had been done. And time was growing short.

They spent two days in the small house, waiting out the storm. When it finally let up, Otabek took to the forest to hunt for them, but he went with a heavy heart. The Queen expected him to return with Yuri’s heart as proof that he was no longer a threat to her. Otabek had killed men before, but that had been in battle. This… this was different. Even if Yuri had been the wicked youth that the Queen claimed he was— and he was far from it— he could not have killed another man in cold blood. 

He spent the day out, tracking a group of reindeer, waiting for the right moment. One of them stopped in the wood to take a drink from a stream and he let his arrow fly, catching the deer in the throat. It staggered, its blood spilling out over the newfallen snow as the rest of the herd leapt away. Quickly Otabek raced forward and cut its throat, ending its life as mercifully as possible.

He bled the deer out and took it back to the house. When he arrived, Yuri helped him as dress the deer. Even Nikolai came out for a while, but he stayed in the chair Yuri had put out for him, bundled up against the cold. When he was alone again, Otabek took the heart and placed it in the box the Queen had given him and hid it away.

The stew that night had rich hunks of venison along with the vegetables. Yuri made bread to go along with the meal. In the morning, as Otabek was getting ready to return to the castle, Yuri handed him a folded up cloth. Inside was half of the loaf of bread and some cooked meat from yesterday’s kill. 

“It’s a long trip to Orsk,” Yuri said, looking down, as he handed Otabek the food. “You’ll need something for the road.” In the early morning light, Otabek caught the color high on Yuri’s cheeks. He reached out and tucked a lock of Yuri’s hair back behind his ear and favored him with a smile.

“Thank you,” he said, taking the cloth and tucking it into his pack. 

“Should you ever find yourself this way again…” Yuri began, but broke off, unable to finish the sentence.

“May I pay the two of you a visit?” Otabek asked. He could feel his face flushing and he found that he didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay with them, with Yuri, and get to know-

Before he could finish the thought, Yuri leaned forward and kissed him, full on the lips. And just as quickly, he bolted back inside and shut the door.

Otabek touched his lips, sighing. He would definitely find his way here again. But for now, he had a duty to perform, even if it was a lie. It seemed fitting: a lie had sent him here in the first place. The Queen deserved to reap what she had sewn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! The last chapter will go up next Wednesday!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From behind him in the woods came a strange sound, almost like something— or someone— panting. Yuri turned and looked into the woods. He thought he saw something, a pale shape moving among the trees, low to the ground. He blinked, trying to get a better view, but it was gone. He would have dismissed it, thinking that his imagination was getting the better of him, but Potya bristled in his arms. A low growl shuddered through her and she leapt from his arms, hissing as she bolted into the house. 
> 
> Yuri turned to look at the woods again, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck rise as a chill went through him despite the warm day.
> 
> Something was out there, watching them. He couldn’t see it, but he could feel it.
> 
> He shivered and kept a wary eye on the woods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are at the end!

At the castle, Yuliana was anxious. Otabek had been gone far longer than she anticipated. If it had been the right phase of the moon, she would have used the bowl to scry on him. Had something befallen him? Would she have to send another in his place?

She paced her apartments and snapped at her maids, frantic. At last, one of the guards came to tell her that the huntsman had returned, and not a moment too soon.

Yuliana had her maids dress her, this time in a sapphire-hued gown, and tend to her hair. She met Otabek in her receiving room, just as before. Otabek looked no different than he had when he left. He knelt before her and held up the box, presenting it to her.

“The beast has been slain?” she asked.

“Yes,” he replied, keeping his head down. “The deed has been done.”

Yuliana called for one of her maids and had them take the box from him. She looked upon the heart and placed her hand on her breast, relieved. Now she could finally rest.

When Otabek took his leave of her, she had the maid take the box to the kitchens. Hours later, the heart was served to her on a plate. 

The plate went back to the kitchens, empty.

A few days later, when Yuliana had one of her maids inquire about Otabek’s whereabouts, she discovered that he had left the castle and the service of the King, claiming he had family to tend to. Yuliana dismissed it and decided to pursue other prey.

* * *

Yuri was pleased that his grandfather had recovered. He was old and these illnesses came on him more frequently. Someday, he knew one of them would take him, but he hoped that day was far off.

It had been nice having someone else here with them while his grandfather had been ill. The young hunter said he’d lost his way, but Yuri had seen through the obvious lie. He wasn’t sure what Otabek had been doing in their woods, but no harm had befallen them. He had provided sustenance for them and even helped him take care of his grandfather.

Yuri went to draw more water from the well, Potya trailing behind him. Why had he kissed Otabek? Was it merely out of gratitude, or had it been something more? He was handsome and strong and stirred things in Yuri’s heart, feelings he had not known he possessed until he opened the door and saw him standing there, shivering in the cold. 

He pulled the bucket out of the well and sighed, not for the first time, and wondered if he would ever see him again.

Just as he was turning to go back into the house, Yuri heard someone call his name from a distance. He bit his lip and blinked. That sounded like-

“Otabek?” he called out, looking around. And then he saw him, waving as he ran towards the house. Yuri dropped the bucket on the ground and ran towards him, not believing his eyes. Otabek… Otabek had returned!

They met halfway, grasping one another. Before Yuri could speak, Otabek pulled him down into a kiss.

“You came back,” Yuri said at last, breathless.

“As if I could stay away,” Otabek replied and kissed him again.

* * *

A year passed. Again the moon rose in the sky, red as blood. Yuliana knelt in front of the hearth and pricked her finger, letting three drops fall into the rainwater she had collected a few days before. Fog bubbled up out of the bowl and a voice, powerful and ageless, bubbled up with it.

“Speak your desire,” said the voice.

“Who is the cleverest in the kingdom?” Yuliana asked. She expected the fog to clear and show her a mirrored surface reflecting her face, but instead she again saw a small house made of wood and stone. An old man moved around, a withered staff in his hands, his beard gone entirely white. 

A shirtless young man made repairs to the roof. His dark hair was shorn short like a warrior’s and the powerful muscles in his back rippled under his bronzed skin. In the field, a young man with long blond hair— the same shade as hers— planted seeds. 

Shrieking, Yuliana threw the bowl against the wall, shattering it.

She had been _ tricked_! God be damned, she had been lied to and cheated! Otabek had not killed her bastard son like he said he had. No, instead he had given her the heart of some other beast and ran away to go live with _ him_! Otabek, traitorous Otabek, had fallen under her son’s spell.

Snarling, Yuliana got up and paced the room. She had been a _ fool _ to let someone else do this! She knew that she was the only one who could correct her old mistake. 

She would have to kill him herself.

There were other magics that she knew. Some were more difficult and extracted a higher price than others. But she would not be fooled again.

* * *

At the next full moon, Yuliana knelt on her balcony, the thick pelt of a wolf her only garment. Before her lay a bundle of fresh herbs, a mortar and pestle, her dagger, a thin strip of cloth, and the severed paw of a wolf.

She began to chant, soft and low, as she took the herbs and ground them into a thick paste. As the moon rose in the sky, she took her knife and slashed the palm of her right hand. When her blood began to well up, Yuliana rubbed the paste into the cut, wincing at the sting. Next she slashed the pad of the wolf’s paw and pressed into the cut on her palm. She bound her hand and and the paw together with the strip of cloth as she finished her chant and waited for the transformation to take place.

Before the night was done, a wolf howled and leapt from the Queen’s balcony, headed for the woods to the north. 

Of the Queen herself, there was no sign.

* * *

Yuri sat back on his heels, happy that the first seedlings were finally coming out of the ground. They would need the extra crops this year now that there were three of them. He looked across the clearing to where Otabek and his grandfather were busy fashioning new arrows. Potya butted her head against his hand, wanting attention. Smiling, Yuri picked her up and scratched her under the chin, happy to feel the contented purr that rumbled through her body.

From behind him in the woods came a strange sound, almost like something— or someone— panting. Yuri turned and looked into the woods. He thought he saw something, a pale shape moving among the trees, low to the ground. He blinked, trying to get a better view, but it was gone. He would have dismissed it, thinking that his imagination was getting the better of him, but Potya bristled in his arms. A low growl shuddered through her and she leapt from his arms, hissing as she bolted into the house. 

Yuri turned to look at the woods again, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck rise as a chill went through him despite the warm day.

Something was out there, watching them. He couldn’t see it, but he could feel it.

He shivered and kept a wary eye on the woods.

* * *

That evening, as Nikolai hung the kettle by the hearth, Potya stirred from her spot on Yuri and Otabek’s bed. She looked at the door and hissed, ducking under the wooden frame.

Nikolai thought nothing of her behavior as he tended to the soup in the kettle. Potya growled at leaves that fell from the trees. She chased things that weren’t there. Sometimes, she chased her own tail. But she kept the fields clear of mice and other vermin and she made Yura happy.

He smiled as he stirred the pot again. Seeing Yura smile was a good thing. And he smiled even more now that Otabek had come to live with them. Nikolai laughed to himself. He knew the bloom of love when he saw it.

The door flew open and Otabek came through it, his expression deadly serious. He grabbed his bow and quiver full of arrows from their places on the wall and slung them over his shoulder. 

“There’s a wolf out there,” he said simply. Nikolai did not ask how he knew: Otabek was a skilled hunter. If Otabek said there was a wolf out there, then there was a wolf out there. They both knew that a wolf this close to the house needed to be taken care of.

“I’ll go with you,” Yuri said, dusting off his hands and leaving the dough he had been kneading on the table.

“No, Yura,” Otabek said as he headed for the door. “Stay here and take care of Nikolai. I can take it down.” He crossed the small space between them and kissed Yuri lightly on the lips and tucked a lock of hair back behind his ear.

“I’ll be back by dawn,” Otabek said. “Bar the door behind me.”

And then he was gone, disappearing into the night, leaving Yuri to quietly fret. 

Slowly, Nikolai rose from his place by the hearth. He pulled his old sword from behind his bed and held it up, watching it glint in the firelight.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve used this,” he murmured, half to himself and half to Yuri. “But should that wolf show its face here, I want to be ready.”

Yuri gave him a wan smile and took his own bow down from the wall and quickly strung it, the dough entirely forgotten.

“Let’s give it a fight to remember,” Yuri said and sat by the hearth next to him. 

* * *

Hours later, Otabek still hadn’t returned. It was quiet outside, too quiet. Yuri began to wonder if the wolf had lured Otabek away, or if something had happened to him. It wasn’t like him to be gone so long…

Yuri sat by the door, his bow and arrows by his side. Every time he looked out the window, he swore he could feel something out there watching him. It was like the forest had come alive and had them trapped in the house. He did as Otabek asked and barred the door, but he didn’t like hiding inside the house like a frightened child. He wanted to be out there, helping Otabek track the wolf.

“I’m going to go help him,” Yuri said to his grandfather as he made to remove the piece of wood from the door. His grandfather was about to say something when a sudden noise made him hold still.

Yuri heard it too. It was the sound of heavy panting, like that of an animal, on the other side of the door. But as soon as they heard it, it stopped. Just when Yuri thought he’d imagined the noise, he heard scratching and pawing on the other side of the door, followed by a low growl.

The wolf wasn’t haunting the woods anymore. It was right outside.

His heart racing, Yuri stood up and knocked an arrow, ready to let it fly, and aimed at the door. Behind him, his grandfather had taken up his sword and came to stand by him. Neither of them spoke a word. 

There was a thump high on the door and the sound of claws raking the wood all the way down. Yuri could feel his heart hammering in his chest and his mouth had gone dry. The only thing keeping them safe was the door, which seemed entirely too flimsy. 

And then there was the noise of a solid body hitting the roof above them and paws racing across it. The wolf had jumped and was circling around them to-

Yuri barely had time to react before the only window in their home shattered and the wolf leapt inside amidst tumbling shards of glass.

Instinctively, Yuri let the arrow fly, but it sunk into the floor by the wolf, who stood before them, snarling.

The wolf’s pelt was a pale blonde, highly unusual for a wolf. But Yuri had no time to consider this as the wolf leapt from the floor and threw herself at his grandfather.

The wolf knocked him back to the floor and sunk her gleaming white teeth into the meat of his arm. Nikolai’s sword fell out of his grasp and clattered to the floor as he cried out and used his free hand to strike the wolf in the head repeatedly. But the wolf held on, growling as she shook her head and tore into Nikolai’s flesh.

Yuri took the bow and swung at the wolf, striking her in the ribs. She yelped and let go, spinning to face him. She growled at him, showing bloody teeth as she slowly stalked forward, backing him into a corner, away from his grandfather, the sword, and the rest of his arrows. 

The wolf’s eyes, cunning and clever, were the same shade of green as his own.

There were other noises, but they were distant, indistinct. All Yuri could hear was the wolf’s low growl and the roaring of his own blood in his ears.

Yuri knew in that moment he was going to die. A deep sorrow began to fill him, but before it could fully take hold, his grandfather opened the door and Otabek ran into the room, his bow at the ready.

Two arrows, one after the other, sank into the wolf’s flank. She yelped and turned, growling at Otabek as she rushed forward. Yuri saw the sword on the floor just a few feet away and lunged for it. He held it up as the wolf leapt for Otabek. She yelped as the sword pierced her belly and, carried by her momentum, impaled her.

Yuri screamed and dropped the sword. The wolf fell with it and moved no more.

Distantly, Yuri heard someone crying. Only later did he realize that it was him.

* * *

Yuri and Otabek tended to Nikolai’s arm. Otabek tied a piece of cloth just below the elbow to stop the bleeding while Yuri washed the wounds with water, grateful that they weren’t too deep. 

Only once Nikolai was tended to did they look back at the wolf. But where the wolf had been, now there was a woman.

She lay naked on the floor, clad only in the pelt of a wolf. There were two arrows in her side and she had been run through by the sword. She had fallen so that her head was turned towards them. Her eyes— the same shade of green as the wolf’s eyes, the same shade of green as Yuri’s— were empty and open. Her hair— the same pale blonde as the wolf’s pelt, the same pale blond as Yuri’s— spilled loose around her, almost like a crown. 

Yuri could only stare at her. She looked like him, only older… and she had been a wolf just a moment ago. A wolf that had tried to kill them.

“By God,” Nikolai whispered, his gaze focused on the woman. “Is it-?”

“It is the Queen,” Otabek murmured, running his hand over her eyes to close them.

Yuri swallowed. The Queen? How…?

“So that’s what became of her,” Nikolai sighed, sounding like he had aged years in the span of just a few minutes. “I only saw her once, but I could never forget her,” he continued, reaching out to rest his good hand on Yuri’s arm. “I saw her on the day she took you out into the woods, the day I saved you from her and brought you here.”

Yuri blinked, not believing what he was hearing. He turned to his grandfather, the question evident in his eyes.

Nikolai nodded sadly. “She’s older now, but there’s no mistaking her. This woman… the Queen… she was your mother, Yura.”

Yuri sat there between Otabek and his grandfather, shaking. He’d always thought his mother had died in childbirth. But she had lived? And she was the Queen? 

And she had been transformed into a wolf and tried to kill him?

It was too much to bear.

He buried his face in his hands and wailed, feeling lost.

* * *

They burned her body far away from the house. Yuri sat by the fire, feeling numb and hollow. His grandfather and Otabek had told him everything. The burden of it all weighed him down. He wanted to sleep, but every time he closed his eyes, he saw a wolf with a crown snarling at him. 

Once the fire had consumed her and left nothing behind but ash, Nikolai said prayers and sprinkled salt over them.

“Just to be sure,” he murmured. Otabek scraped the ashes out of the pit and put them in a sack and tied it with a string. 

“I’ll be back in a few days,” he whispered against Yuri’s lips. “Rest now and don’t worry.”

Yuri watched Otabek until he disappeared into the woods, heading east into the rising sun.

He filled the days scrubbing their small house clean and taking care of his grandfather. He cleaned and rewrapped his grandfather’s arm daily, glad that no infection had set in and that it was healing. 

Yuri nailed boards over the broken window to keep out the cold. He worked on his hands and knees, scrubbing the spot where she had been killed. He scrubbed until his fingers were red and raw, and still he didn’t stop. Eventually, Nikolai took the bucket and brush from him and sent him to bed. Potya curled up next to him, reclaiming the spot Otabek had stolen from her.

Yuri did the wash and hung their clothing in the trees when he ran out of twine to pin them to. He took long walks in the woods, comforted by the noises he had grown up listening to. He tended to the garden and gathered herbs to dry for later use. In the evenings, he watched the moon and the stars and took comfort in the fact that Otabek was looking up at the same moon as he.

Just as he said, Otabek returned a few days later, this time without the sack. Yuri didn’t ask what had happened to it. The less he knew, the better. It was enough to know that it and what it held were gone.

The only thing that kept Yuri from sinking into despair was knowing that, despite everything, he was loved. He had always been loved, from the day Nikolai had found him and taken him home. Nikolai had raised him as though he were his own. And, in every way that mattered, he was. 

Nikolai and Otabek... _ they _ were his family, not the woman who birthed him. Nikolai loved him without any conditions and had sacrificed everything for him. Otabek, gentle and kind Otabek, loved him for who he was and asked nothing of him in return. He knew the Queen had originally sent Otabek to kill him and that he had stayed his hand. In the end, Otabek had been the one to save them.

Yuri knew he could ask for nothing more and he needed nothing more.

One night, a few years later, Nikolai went to sleep and did not wake the next morning. Yuri and Otabek mourned him and laid him to rest by the garden he had loved so much. 

“Beka,” Yuri said one night as they sat outside and watched the moon rise, “I wish to see more of the world. My grandfather told me about it, but I want to see it for myself.”

“I would like to see more of the world as well,” Otabek replied. Now that Nikolai was gone, there was nothing holding them here any longer.

A few days later, they headed west with the sun, Potya trailing behind them. They didn’t know what they would find, but they would find it together, and that was what mattered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so very much for reading! :-)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Comments, kudos, and shares are worth their weight in gold, baby!
> 
> The beautiful and amazing artwork was done by [Avarossso](https://twitter.com/avarossso). Please be sure to check out more of their gorgeous work!
> 
> Many, _many_ thanks to both [ScribblesInTheMargins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScribblesInTheMargins/works) and [Baph](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baph/pseuds/Baph) for going above and beyond the call of duty as betas. Thank you both so very much for all of your help!
> 
> This work is complete and will be updated on Wednesdays. Don't want to miss an update? You can subscribe to the story (or to me) and never miss a chapter.
> 
> I'm on [Tumblr](https://paintingwithwords.tumblr.com), but you're more likely to find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/PaintWithW0rds) these days.


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